


Don't Wait Too Long

by CherBearDaCareBear



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Romance, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-03-13
Updated: 2005-03-13
Packaged: 2019-05-15 20:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14797106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherBearDaCareBear/pseuds/CherBearDaCareBear
Summary: Josh receives four mysterious letters in the mail sending him on a path that leads to the DNC Convention in Los Angeles and, well, to Donna.





	Don't Wait Too Long

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Don’t Wait Too Long**

**by:** Georgia Bean

**Character(s):** Josh, Donna  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Donna  
**Category(s):** JD Romance, Songfic of sorts  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Disclaimer:** All characters original to WW belong to those who created them. It’s not like fanfic is going to take over the world in 2010...or is it?  
**Summary:** Josh receives four mysterious letters in the mail sending him on a path that leads to the DNC Convention in Los Angeles and, well, to Donna.  
**Spoiler:** Can a story be a post-ep for an entire season? Maybe this is just my passive-aggressive love letter to The Powers That Be. This story leaves the realm of any actual facts or locations related to the canon of the show far far behind.  
**Author's Note:** The song is real. It is a swing-dancing, crooner type song by Madeleine Peyroux. If anyone made a JD video of this…oh man, it would rock so much. I pulled it off iTunes. hint hint 

Josh Lyman’s Apartment  
Spring 2005  
3pm Wednesday 

He’d been home for ten minutes and would be leaving again in less than 24 hours. There was precious little time to do laundry, sort the mail, pay bills and sleep. He’d missed both breakfast and lunch that morning. Now he was waiting, rather impatiently, for the pizza to arrive. 

He flipped through the cumbersome pile of mail that his neighbor, Mrs. Austen, had stacked on his kitchen counter while he’d been on the road. She was a sweet lady. She’d put a six pack of beer in the fridge for him. She had told him before he left the previous week that she was doing this because she thought that, “young Congressman Santos was the bees knees.” He remembered her old lady giggle when she’d said that. She was a bit eccentric, but nice. Okay, the woman had bluish hair. Seriously, she had blue hair. Well, okay, it was a silvery-blue color. 

He toed off his shoes, continuing to sort. He made a separate pile for the bills from the rest: credit card offers, a Yale Law alumni newsletter, a copy of his Economist magazine and more take-out coupons then he’d use in the next six months. The rhythmic sorting stopped when he came across four plain 8 ½ x 11 manila envelopes. 

"What the...?" 

Each envelope had a different postmark but no return address: Louisville, Kentucky; Minneapolis, Minnesota; St. Louis, Missouri; and Santa Monica, California. 

They all felt about the same weight. Each had the same number of boring flag stamps affixed in the upper right corner. Each envelope was addressed by hand and it appeared the same hand had addressed each envelope. Upon further inspection he noticed a small number printed above the rows of stamps. The number corresponded with the date on the postmark. The envelope with a small “1” written above the row stamps had the oldest postmark. 

He opened the first one, from Santa Monica, California. A single sheet of heavy paper, smooth and uncreased, slid out as he emptied the envelope. 

No letterhead or graphics, only printed text met his curious eye. 

At the top of the page the following words were typed in a plain font: 

__

> _...You can cry a million tears..._  
> ...You can wait a million years...  
> ...If you think that time will change your ways...  
> ...Don‘t wait too long...

"It seems like yesterday you watched him give his first inaugural address. Now he’s already planned his presidential library. For eight years your life revolved around him. Before you go down that road again, ask yourself, have you forgotten your own life? 

"Take a deep breath and make sure your cell phone is charged. You’ll need to make a few calls. You are a smart man, Mr. Lyman. By the end of this journey perhaps your brain may just recognize what your heart’s known all along. 

"Good luck. 

"Your story started where all good stories begin: the road. Hitting the road is part of the American Dream. One sets out to start over, to begin anew. Your story is no different. She hit the road, and, as luck would have it, she found her way to you. You’ve been traveling a road of your own, perhaps soon, maybe around the next corner you will find your way back to her. 

"Now you know the Mother Road brought the nation’s poor and huddled masses to gaze at the sun setting on my shores. Yet for all the suffering and sadness endured along the long long road, many found new life and a chance for bounty. 

"You must find the Mother Road and follow the clues. Don’t wait too long, she’s waited a long time." 

Josh turned the letter over but the reverse side was blank. He checked the envelope. Nothing remained inside. 

"The Mother Road?" 

"California postmark…Mother Road…poor and huddled masses…Route 66?" Josh ticked off the clues aloud until he came to what he thought was a viable conclusion. 

Route 66? What’s the deal with that? He turned on his laptop and pulled up Google. What did people do before the Internet? 

He typed in "Mother Road" and "Santa Monica." He hit upon a number of historical sites about the lore and significance of U.S. Route 66. He went with the first one he found. It was a site promoting a museum to the Road and the era in American history. At the top of the page he located a phone number. 

"What the hell am I doing?" he wondered aloud as the phone rang. 

"Route 66 Historical Society, this is Gertrude, can I help you?" 

"Yes, Gertrude is it? I, uh, received a letter from someone in Santa Monica who told me to find the woman who may know something about the Mother Road," the words sort of tumbled out. He felt more than a little foolish. 

"Ok. Right, well sir, I’m not sure what you are asking of me. Do you want me to send you historical information about Route 66?" Gertrude sounded confused. 

"No. I don’t know. I’m here in Washington and I just got a letter telling me to find the woman who is on the path of the Mother Road," he stumbled over his words again. "So, I, uh, did a search on Google and this is where it led me." This sucked. He felt really stupid. 

"Well, um, can you hold on a second? I’ll get my manager. Maybe she can help you." Gertrude sighed and soon Josh heard the strains of "Get Your Kicks on Route 66" in fabulous Muzak style. 

"Hi!”"the line picked up again. "I’m Monica Bedford. Gertrude tells me you are looking for the woman who knows the Mother Road?" 

"I, uh, yeah, I guess." Josh was amazed he had a job in politics, the way he was communicating would make every high school speech teacher tear her hair out in frustration. 

"Can I get your name?" 

"My name?" 

"Yes," Monica sounded like she might be one of those high school teachers. She just had that voice. 

"Uh, Josh, Josh Lyman." 

"The Josh Lyman?" She sounded impressed. 

"Maybe, I guess it depends. Can you help me Monica?" 

"Actually, yes I can." He could hear attempt to stifle a laugh. 

"You can?" The amazement dripped from his voice. 

"Listen carefully Mr. Lyman, I’ve been instructed to say this only once. Are you listening?" 

"Really!? Ok. Yeah, I mean yes." He took a deep breath as the confusion and nervous energy bounced around in his chest. 

"For years Route 66 was the hope of the future." Her voice took on a warm and mellow quality. "Millions of Americans left their old lives behind to find a new start in California. To some it seems as though you’ve been waiting for the signs to point you in the direction of your own Mother Road. If you pay attention, you will see that every sign you’d need you’ve already seen." 

"Excuse me? I don’t understand," Josh’s voice grew impatient. 

"When you close your eyes and dream about your future, who do you see next to you?" 

"What?" 

"The Mother Road is long, Mr. Lyman, but bounty and new life awaits you at the end. She awaits you. Do you understand?" 

"Um, maybe. I don’t know." 

"Think about it," Monica’s voice was calming. His nerves were jumpy and his brain felt like it was operating at half capacity. "You’ve got no reason to stay in the Dust Bowl of drought that has been your personal life. You’ll find her waiting for you, if you just head west. 

"Josh?" 

"Yes?" 

"All you have to do is head west." 

"What?" 

"And open the next letter." 

Josh heard a click as Monica disconnected the call. 

This was turning out to be a very weird day. 

Obviously someone was trying to tell him something. It wasn’t politics. He would have recognized a political maneuver easily. This was something altogether different. This was personal. 

He pulled out a legal pad and jotted down what Monica told him: Mother Road, new bountiful life, Dust Bowl personal life, she’s waiting, go out west. Who is she? 

"I’m supposed to find 'her' out west? Who’s out west? What’s out west?" He tried talking himself through the hints out loud. 

What the hell was going on? 

He picked up the second envelope and tapped it against his jean-clad thigh. It was postmarked from St. Louis. 

He held it up to the light. He couldn’t see through it. He shook it. It was silent. 

The rip of the paper broke the silence of his apartment. 

This letter started as the first had, with a four line poem at the top: 

> _...When your morning turns to night..._  
> ...Who’ll be loving you by candlelight?...  
> ...If you think time will change your ways...  
> ...Don’t wait too long...

"The Road stretches out ahead of you. You know who waits at the end. You’ve seen the light but you have not acted. Perhaps you just need a little more light. For in the darkness of ages past, lovers found their way to each other by a golden glow. 

"The Arch rises high into the sky, arcing away from the earth. Yet, it returns to its home, very close to where it started. 

"The two of you are apart now, but in time, like the arch, you will return to your home. You’ve never been very far from where you started Josh. To be honest, the two of you have never been far from where you started. 

"Find the soft light that glows under the Arch. It’s your gateway to the west, where she awaits." 

Josh stared at the second letter, his brain working hard to solve the riddle. He scanned the letter again looking for keywords. Arch. Glowing lights. Gateway. West. 

Turning back to his laptop he Googled all his keywords. He got a hit immediately: Gateway Arch Candle Company. He scrolled down the page until he found a contact number. 

He took a few deep breaths while he waited for someone to pick up the line. 

"Gateway Candles, this is Nadine." 

"Hello, this is Josh Lyman. I got a message to contact someone, I think, at your store," his words were met with silence on the other end of the line. 

"Hello?" He ventured hesitantly. 

"Wow," Nadine’s voice sounded a little surprised. "Is this the Josh Lyman who used to be Deputy Chief of Staff?" 

Nadine sounded impressed. Josh didn’t know what to think. 

"Um, well. Yes." 

"I’ve heard a lot about you. Now, what can I do to help?" Her voice was sweet and perky. She sounded like a candle shop owner, or a florist. Someone who sells things; someone who make people happy. 

"Well, see, this is going to sound odd, but I received a letter in the mail." He hoped he’d get more from this call than the call to California. 

"And you went online and found your way here." She was smiling, he could tell. 

"That’s what happened. Now, Nadine, I’m hoping you can explain something to me." He tried turning on the charm. 

"Actually, Mr. Lyman, I don’t have much time, but I do need to tell you something. Are you listening?" 

Candle-making hectic? How did this woman not have much time? 

He readied his pen again. "Yes," he said. 

"She came to you from the Road and now you’re making your way to her." Her voice relaxed and deepened. 

"Who?!" Josh interrupted. 

He heard Nadine snicker. 

"Now, I’m not supposed to say this, Mr. Lyman," her voice getting serious, "But you know darn well who 'she' is. If you don’t, it’s just a sign you’ve been denying yourself too long the pleasure of having a life with the woman you spent nearly all your time with for eight years." 

"Donna? Would she do this? Did she do this?" Josh’s voice echoed off the kitchen tile. 

"Josh, hey, stop now, I have to tell you what I’m supposed to tell you and then be done. I’ve already gone too far with the chitchat. Listen up. 

"The Mother Road will lead you to her but then what? You need to carve out a space for yourselves. No politics. No mind games. No wistful glances at closed doors." 

Josh had no time to press Nadine for answers before he heard the click of the line disconnecting. 

Standing in his kitchen Josh now felt slightly less confused. However, he also felt significantly more agitated. He hit redial on his phone. 

"Gateway Candles, this is Nadine." 

"Nadine! Don’t hang up! I," his voice pressed her for patience. 

"Don’t wreck the fun of the game Josh! Go! Take action! Stop waiting for the lights to be green. Get your ass in gear and get to the next letter! Sheesh!" 

With a throaty laugh she hung up on him. 

He snapped his cell phone and started pacing the room. 

"This is about Donna? Did Donna do this? She has time to do this?! If not Donna, who would go to all this trouble?" 

His reverie was broken by a knock at the door. 

Mrs. Austen smiled at him as he opened the door. 

"Hi Mrs. Austen. Thanks for picking up my mail and for the beer." 

"Oh that’s nice sweetie. I brought you the kind you said you liked. I bought myself some too, but you know, I didn’t like it. Not enough oomph. I brought the other four bottles for you," she wandered into his apartment, passing the remaining four bottles of beer to him. 

"I thought you said you didn’t like the beer. It was a six-pack right?" 

"Oh, that. I had to make sure I didn’t like it. I drank two." 

Josh smiled. 

"You just had to make sure?" Josh watched her fidget with the buttons on her sweater. 

"Something like that. You know, you live alone too much. You should bring a nice girl here, liven up the place a bit." 

"You think so?” Josh was amused by how Mrs. Austen sort of shuffled about his place, touching picture frames delicately. 

“Heavens, yes! You had that one woman here a long time ago but she listened to the radio too loud and she was, well, how can I say this..." 

"Odd?" 

"No. She was fishy. Like a fish, she was kinda slippery looking. Was she slippery?" 

Josh didn’t know how to answer. 

"You need a non-fishy woman in your life, Mr. Josh. You should do something. You’re not getting any younger you know." 

"Well, I’m pretty busy getting your Congressman Santos elected," Josh chided her. 

"You say that, and I know what you are saying. But I also know that’s a crock of phooey," she wagged her finger at him. "Congressman Santos, as busy as he is, has time for a wife and two nice looking children. Now, I’m not saying any old woman will do for you, oh heavens no, but don’t you think it’s time?" 

"You’re probably right, Mrs. Austen." 

She looked at him like he might be trying to pull a politician’s prank. She apparently thought better of the whole thing and made her way to the door and out into the hallway. 

"Damn straight I’m right," she mumbled as she made her way down the hall toward her door. 

"Thank you for dropping off my mail and you know, for the beer." Josh smiled at her as she waved back at him. 

"You can thank me by getting Congressman Santos elected and getting yourself a nice girl." She didn’t stop to say anymore, she turned and kept her slow pace back toward her own door. 

Josh closed the door and looked around his empty apartment. The furniture needed dusting. The place felt kind of like a ghost town. Was Donna going to be the one to give this place life again? 

The third letter burned a hole in his imagination. Shaking his head, he did his best to loosen the disoriented feeling he’d had since he’d opened the first letter. He had work, real work, to do. Congressman Santos was not going to get elected if his campaign manager spent all his time playing the gumshoe detective. 

Thoughts of campaigning drifted away the closer he got to the envelope on the kitchen counter. He sort of sauntered back to it and lifted it up. He shook it. He listened to it. It felt just like the first two. Sighing, he tapped the corner against his forehead. 

"Oh to be Karnac right now," he mumbled and opened the envelope from Minneapolis. 

Once again, the top of the letter had more of the same typed neatly across the top: 

> _...Baby you and I got a lot to learn..._  
> ...Don’t want to waste another day...  
> ...Maybe you got to lose it all...  
> ...Before you find your way...

"In the land of ten thousand lakes there’s only one place wayward goddesses can go to find a place to rest, to learn about the truth inside. Find her and she will ease your mind. Terese awaits your call." 

The letter ended more abruptly than the first two. Four lines of the poem and two lines of the clue. That was it? 

"Ten thousand lakes?" Josh wondered aloud. 

The letter was postmarked from Minnesota, the Land of Ten Thousand Lakes. 

He went back to Google and typed in "wayward goddesses" and "Minneapolis" and hoped for the best. 

He got a hit. 

"St. Terese’s Home for Wayward Goddesses?" he mumbled as he read the link to the webpage Google returned. "What the hell is it?" 

He clicked the link and found he’d entered a webpage for a salon/spa retreat in Minneapolis. Scrolling past the generalities he searched out the only thing he wanted: a phone number. He found it at the bottom and started dialing his cell phone. 

"St. Terese’s Home for Wayward Goddesses, this is Robin, how can I help you?" 

"I, uh, is Terese there?" 

"Yes, she’s finishing with a client now, can I ask who is calling?" 

"Uh, yeah, this is Josh Lyman." 

"Is she expecting your call?" 

"Well, not exactly. I just got a message I was supposed to call her." 

"Sure, hold on." 

Josh listened to some sort of Zen-master-like new age music as he waited. Who listened to this stuff? 

"Mr. Lyman?" a calm voice stopped the weird music. 

"Yes, is this Terese?" 

"Yes, I’m glad you called. I’ve been waiting for you." 

"You have?" 

"As I understand it, I’m third, am I not, Mr. Lyman?" 

"Uh, yeah. You guys know this is weird right?" 

He could hear Terese’s good-natured laugh. 

"I suppose. Yet, in our defense, all of us are smitten with you and just can’t imagine you without her. So, here we are." Terese sighed like she was in the midst of a great romance novel. 

"So, can I ask..." Josh started. 

"No. You can’t. You can, however, listen." Her voice smiled but brokered no opposition. 

"The Road is set. You’ve got a light to guide you," she spoke methodically. "Now, you need a place to rest your head. All these years we watched the two of you. We’ve known you were star-crossed, destined to be together. So let destiny guide you to the Sky." 

"The Sky?" 

"Yes, Mr. Lyman, you’ve dreamed about her forever. Why not let your dreams meet reality? Don’t let fear bar you from acting." 

"You make no sense, you know that, right?" 

"Oh, Mr. Lyman, do you know what I do?" 

"You run some sort of establishment for...Well, no. I don’t know." 

"Let me make it easy for you. I run a place that gives women a respite from the hectic schedules of their lives. For a few hours, sometimes a few days, a person can come here and take a rest, start over, get a new perspective." 

Josh sighed into the phone. This got more complicated and frustrating by the minute. 

"Good luck Mr. Lyman," Terese whispered and hung up. 

Josh tapped his foot impatiently on the cold tile. He had to focus his energies to try and put the clues from the first three letters together: road to California, lights to guide the way, and taking rest in the sky. He opened a beer. 

Questions bounded through his mind. If Donna wasn’t behind this, who was? Why now? His eyes hit the fourth, and final, envelope. He knew he wasn’t done. All hesitation evaporated when he lifted the last manila envelope from the counter. Perhaps all the answers were inside. 

> _...Take a chance, play your part..._  
> ...Make romance, it might break your heart...  
> ...But if you think time will change your ways...  
> ...Don’t wait too long...

"Rumor has it you have a bit of an affinity for baseball. Now everyone knows you are a political slugger. Percentages, chances, strategy, political players, statistics, all these things click in your mind like a Swiss watch. Except her. You can’t figure out how to play the game with her now that she’s switched teams. 

"You took a hard curveball the day she left and you’ve been pacing outside the batter’s box ever since. 

"Are you afraid you’ll strike out? Afraid she’ll break your heart? 

"You’ll never know if you never pick up the bat and Take A Swing. 

"Springtime means baseball Josh. It’s time to batter up. 

"You’ve been set on the Road, been given light, and a soft place to fall. All that remains is getting back in the game. You took for granted the thousands of days you shared, don’t wait to share them again." 

Josh returned to Google one last time. He typed in a few keywords from the letter and found his way to a sports collectibles shop, Take A Swing, located in Louisville. He found and dialed the number. 

"Take A Swing, this is Eric, can I help you?" A young man’s voice hollered over loud music in the background. 

"Uh, yeah," Josh started. 

"What? I can’t hear you!" the boy’s voice hollered again. 

Before Josh could start over, he heard a tussle on the other end of the line. The music disappeared and he heard a woman’s voice scold the young employee. 

"Thanks for calling Take A Swing, this is Arlene, can I help you?" 

"Yes, uh, this is Josh Lyman." 

"Mets fan right?" 

"Yeah...Hey! Do you say things like that to everyone who calls you?" Josh’s voice betrayed the building frustration he felt. 

"No, but I knew to expect your call Mr. Lyman. I assume since you’ve found your way here you were able to follow the clues well enough." 

He could hear her typing in the background. 

"I suppose," he hedged. 

"You suppose?" The typing stopped. "Do you or don’t you?!" Her tone startled him. She could be in the House of Representatives, maybe even the Senate. 

"I followed the clues and here I am," Josh replied. 

"I’d ask if you’d figured it all out yet, but I’m afraid I’d get some wishy washy politician’s answer. You know, the kind of answer that says absolutely nothing real and guarantees absolutely nothing useful will get done," she sighed resignedly. She took a moment before she began again. "Now, listen up Mr. Lyman, I am only to tell you this once." 

"Okay," Josh was afraid to say much of anything to this woman. 

"You’ve been dodging your heart too long. It’s time to shine together in the sun. East will meet West and together you will share the first of many wonderful days." 

Arlene stopped talking. Silence filled the space between them. 

"That’s it?" Josh’s wonderment could not be contained. 

"Oh good grief. You are a dense one," Arlene sighed and hung up the phone. 

Josh felt as if his head spun more now that when he picked up that first envelope. Who did things like this? Who sits around and thinks up such complicated games? For what purpose? Was this whole thing a big ruse to get him to own up to his feelings about Donna? 

His pacing, no longer confined to his kitchen, kept time as he tried talking himself through the whole last hour of confusion. 

"What’s wrong with my relationship with Donna? We are serious people in serious careers! It’s not like there was anyone else I wanted going to go out with! She knew how I felt! She knew and everything was going to work itself out. What? I was her boss, I mean I’m not now, but I was! I was her boss and I, well, it’s not like I could just wander up to her at her desk and ravish her right there!" 

Josh’s own words stopped his tirade, and his pacing, as the images of ravishing Donna at her desk took over all logical portions of his brain. 

Some moments later he snapped himself out of his reverie and continued pacing. 

She knows! Donna knows how I feel! I know it! She knows it! That’s why all these other people in our lives didn’t last! Not Mandy, not Joey, not Amy, both times. Now, Donna dated her share of gomers, some of them more dangerous than others, but same thing! None of them stayed long. Why? It’s obvious why! What’s the rush, we both know that someday it’ll work itself out. 

"Won’t it?" Josh stopped pacing as the silence in the apartment surrounded him again. 

Thin fingers of fear crept into Josh’s mind. What if Donna didn’t wait? What if she was tired of waiting? Josh picked up his cell and called the one person who knew the ins and outs of having a relationship with a Lyman. He called his mother. 

The pacing started again as he waited for her to pick up. 

"Hello?" His mother’s bright voice filled his ears. 

"Hi mom, it’s me. I’ve got a question for you," Josh’s words spilled out. 

"Well, hello to you too. I’m good. Spent the morning with my friends from the club. We golfed and had lunch. So glad you asked," his mother’s humored voice rambled on, reminding him to use his manners and perhaps inquire about how she’d been since he called last. 

"No time for manners, Mom. I’ve got a serious thing here." 

He heard her sigh on the other line. 

"Mom, it’s about love. I think it’s about love." He knew that would get her attention. 

"Spill it, Joshua, tell me right now." 

He couldn’t tell if she was suspicious or pleased. 

"I came home and found four mysterious envelopes. I opened the first one and it told me to call California. I did. Then this woman told me that some mystery woman was waiting for me at the end of the Mother Road and that I’d known her all along." 

"What?" 

"It’s crazy! So then I opened the second letter and it went on and on about arches and finding this mysterious woman back where I started. The third had me talking to some woman in Minneapolis who owns some kind of home for wayward goddesses. I just hung up with an angry woman who used way too many baseball metaphors." 

"Let me get this straight." She sounded serious. "You received four letters in the mail and they are all connected? They sound like riddles. Are they riddles." 

"Yeah, I think so." 

"So you solve one and then it leads you to the next one?" 

"Yes," he let out a big sigh. He was glad she understood him. 

"Now that’s just odd," she laughed. 

"Mom! I need help! What does all this mean?" 

"Sorry dear, you have to admit, it’s pretty odd. Okay, does anything else stand out in the letters?" 

"There’s some sort of poetry or something at the top of each letter. Doesn’t really fit in with the riddle thing though." 

He read her the top lines from all four letters. 

"Oh Joshua, that’s a song." 

"A what? Whose song?" 

"She’s an American who busked in the streets of Paris, singing for money. Her name is Madeleine something. That’s her song. It’s called 'Don’t Wait Too Long'." 

"Ohh..." Josh’s voiced trailed off as the pieces started to lock into place. 

"So someone is telling you to get off your backside and do something about Donna?" 

"What!?" Josh choked on a sip of a beer he’d opened. 

"Joshua, how can you be surprised? You think I’m the only one who wants to see you settled down with a nice wife and maybe a few kids..." He could hear his mother smiling as she drawled. 

This exact topic, what Josh liked to call the World’s Longest One-Sided Conversation About Getting A Wife and Children, was one of his mother’s favorites. 

"Someone’s gone to a lot of trouble to do it though. It sounds a bit like that charming French movie...oh what was it called? Oh yes! 'Amelie,' it was called 'Amelie'." 

"My letters remind you of a Frenchy chick flick?" Josh queried. 

“A little bit. In the film, Amelie, that’s the main character, plays all these games to help the people in her life, but she does it without their knowing it was her. It’s really a charming film. I’ll send it to you.” 

"Today’s been a very weird day, Mom." Josh sighed as he took another draw from his beer. 

"Oh, Joshua, with you I’d expect no less." 

The conversation turned to the campaign and soon Josh found himself standing in his kitchen again, staring at the letters. 

"Darling," his mother’s voice warmed, "Go figure out whatever it is you need to figure out. If the time is right, which it will never be 100% right you know, do something." 

They said their good-byes and Josh found himself sitting on the couch with all four letters set out, in order, before him on the coffee table. 

Was Donna sending him love riddles in the mail? 

If it wasn’t her, but on her behalf, would that constitute mail fraud? 

If his mother didn’t know, there’s was only one person left to call. He dialed Donna’s cell. 

"Donna Moss," her voice mumbled into the phone. 

Was she asleep? Why was she sleeping? It was the middle of the afternoon. 

"Hey, it’s me." 

"Josh? Is that you?" He could hear her yawn. 

"Yeah. I’ve got a question for you." 

"Hmmm?" 

"You see any good movies lately?" 

"What?" 

"I’m wondering if you have watched any good films as of late. You know, one of those girly foreign chick flicks or something." 

"What time is it?" 

"It’s like 3 in the afternoon. Why are you sleeping?" he answered. 

"We were up late working through some speeches and polling data. I’m just trying to grab a nap before the thing tonight." She didn’t sound excited. 

"You aren’t buried under any couch cushions or pillows are you?" He laughed. 

"Does it amuse you that your candidate sat on me Josh?" She sounded tired. 

"Kinda. Hey, you never answered my question." 

"Josh, I notice that you’ve got no hesitation in calling me lately. In fact, it works for me, just not when I’m trying to sleep." 

"Donna I appreciate the pep talk, but you didn’t answer my question." 

"What question again?" she mumbled. 

"The foreign chick flick question," he stated resolutely. 

"No. Josh. No time to paint my toenails much less while away the hours in a movie theater." 

"Oh." 

"Why?" She sounded a little annoyed. 

"Uh, my mother. She, uh, thought you’d like the movie she just saw." 

"Your mom thought of me when she was watching a movie? That’s pretty sweet of her. What movie?" 

"Uh, it’s French. I think she said it was called 'Amelie'." 

"Oh, yeah, that is a cute film," her voice warmed as she woke to the world again. 

"So you’ve seen it?!" 

"Sure, a long time ago. My sister sent it to me on dvd." 

"Really," he sounded like maybe all the pieces were falling into place. 

"Yep. She was on this French kick and thought I could use some culture. I’ve watched it a time or two. Have you seen it?" 

"Ah. No. Donna, do you know anyone in Santa Monica?" 

"Like politics people or normal people?" 

"Uh I’m not sure." 

"I don’t live in an igloo Josh, I know people all over the country now," she paused as if she didn’t know what to say. "Josh, you are acting kinda strange. You call me in the middle of the day to ask me about a foreign film? Maybe you need a nap. Now, I’m just gong to pretend that this was all a dream. See, I’m sleeping, was sleeping. I mean I want to continue sleeping. Talk to you later?" 

"Oh, yeah, sure. No problem Donna." 

He heard her yawn and stifle a laugh. 

"Bye Josh." 

"Have a nice nap, Donna," his voice betrayed the smile plastered on his face. 

He scrubbed his hands through his hair after he hung up the phone. He was still smiling. She didn’t answer the Santa Monica question. Could it mean that she was the one behind the letters? He always knew Donna could manage time like no one else, but he never imagined she’d have the time to set up something as amazing as this. 

Josh pondered what everything in the last hour meant, what all of it could mean in the near future. How would they work? Not work as in political work, but how would they work, as a, a couple? He’d spent years waiting, hiding his real feelings, hoping that she’d be able to see through the bravado and bluster to the man behind all of it. Now that there was a chance, a real chance, how would they… 

The doorbell buzzed him from his mind puzzle. The pizza had arrived. 

Summer 2005  
Democratic National Convention  
Staples Center  
Los Angeles, California  
9pm 

Skimming the line between insanity and exhaustion, Josh watched the votes tally. He could feel it, the win, he could feel it tingling just beyond his reach. It was only a matter of time now, for good or ill, and the energy in the room was palpable. Beyond the pressures of the Convention, the fact that he was in California weighed on his mind. In the last few months those letters, their meaning and intent, set up camp in the back of his mind. 

Every second felt like an eternity. He could not explain this feeling, not to anyone outside politics anyway. It was as if everything was moving fast and slow at the same time. 

Next to him Ronna’s eyes were wide in anticipation and she was rubbing her thumb over a small medallion on a chain. 

"What is that?" Josh glanced at her nervous nimble fingers. 

"It’s my grandmother’s," she mumbled as most of her attention was on the delegates and the voting. "Uh, it’s her St. Jude medal." 

Josh didn’t respond. 

She looked up at him. "You know, St. Jude, patron saint of lost causes." 

Josh breathed deeply and smiled. He reached out and put his hand on her thin shoulder. Ronna was nervous. She trembled under his strong hand. It didn’t seem she noticed Josh much at all. "Tell St. Jude I said hi." Josh forced a grin as he moved past her into the crowd. 

He needed to move. He’d been waiting too long and the waiting was killing him. 

Looking out some fifty feet ahead he saw her. She was finishing an interview with the MSNBC crew. She was all smiles and confidence. He kept walking toward her. Once the crew was gone he saw her body language change dramatically. She wrapped her arms tightly around her body and looked up. Surrounded by thousands of people, he’d never seen her look so alone in all his life. 

Above her thousands of red, white and blue balloons waited tenuously for the final vote. He moved quickly, he didn’t want her to get snatched up by another media outlet or anyone else. He wanted a minute with her, just a minute, before the balloons fell and their fate was decided. 

The closer he got, the more evident it was that she felt just as tumultuous as he did. She was always better at hiding it than he was. On the outside, she looked professional, collected, but he could read the tension and nervous energy she carried. In spite of it all, she looked amazing. Her blonde hair shone in the lights. The soft light blue suit fit her effortlessly and a pair of diamond studs sparkled in her ears. 

He walked up and stood next to her, letting his shoulder bump hers. 

"Hey." He hoped his smile didn’t betray the nervousness he felt. 

"Hey." She gave him a weak smile. 

She let her body lean into his a little bit as she let her eyes wander the entire room. "God, Josh, this is amazing. Isn’t this amazing?" 

"You were right." The words tumbled out of his mouth, surprising the both of them. 

"About what?" She seemed confused. 

"You were right to leave the White House when you did." Again his own words shocked him. 

"You feel okay?" She looked at him suspiciously. 

"Yeah, I, uh, wow, Donna," 

"What is it Josh?" She interrupted. 

"I’m so proud of you." Suddenly it was out there, and all he could think to do was watch her. For a moment he saw how his words affected her: a flash of a grin, a slight blush across her cheeks, a moment when everything in the entire arena disappeared except him. 

She reached down and grabbed his hand and gave it a quick squeeze before letting go. 

"You and I, Josh, need to talk." Her blush brought a smile to his face. 

"Yeah." he nodded. 

Suddenly her demeanor changed, refocused on their environment. 

"Josh, if we win this thing tonight we’ll need you. And, uh, if we go all the way and take the White House, you know we’ll need you for sure, right?" Donna looked at him with serious eyes. 

"What do you mean?" 

"Will can’t do this alone, Josh. There’s no way. You know what I mean." 

"Russell?" he asked quietly, as quietly as he could in a room with tens of thousands of people milling about changing the course of his life. 

She didn’t verbalize her answer but he understood her by the sigh escaping her lips, the way she squared her shoulders, and the way her eyes pleaded with his. 

"There was only one Bartlet, Josh, we know that." 

He reached out and put his arm around her shoulders. She too was trembling. Her eyes widened as he pulled her closer toward his side. 

"You’re right, Donna, there is only one Bartlet. But if we win tonight, I gotta say, I like our chances." 

"Your chances of what?" she asked. 

"Our chances." He slowed down so she caught his inference. “Donna, momentum has been building for a long time. There were days when I thought we’d never make it this far. Destiny will take a hand somehow." He couldn’t take his eyes of hers. 

Right then, he wasn’t sure if what he just said was about the campaigns or about her. 

Donna chewed on her lip and he watched her blink furiously at the tears threatening to spill on her cheeks. 

"How much time is left?" she sniffed, sliding out from his embrace. 

"For what?" 

"How long till this is done?!" She started pacing the area again. 

She looked like a nervous colt, ready to run. 

The vibration of his pager and trill of his cell phone all at once cut his reply "Donna, I gotta..." 

Their eyes met. 

"This is it, isn’t it Josh?" She looked nervous, excited, petrified. 

"I’ll see you soon," he promised with a wave as he reentered the throng of people. 

Staples Center  
9:45 pm 

Somehow beyond all hope and expectations, Congressman Matthew Santos stood onstage with his wife and children, waving to the cheering crowd. Josh watched Santos give the acceptance speech. The balloons fell. The music played. 

Shock. Pure and simple shock, Stanley would tell him his body was protecting him from the overwhelming urge to explode in a supernova of human emotion. 

Everything in the last few months led to this exact moment. The sleepless nights, the unending stress, the bartering and begging, the frustration and loneliness, all of it, culminated in this precise moment in history. 

Josh’s mind raced ahead to the election in November. He made his way backstage and began plotting. He was shaken from his train of thought by a bear hug. Santos finally got a hold of him and was doing his best to squeeze the life force out of his campaign manager. 

"Josh! What are you doing lurking around back here! There’s a party going on out there!" Santos looked as shocked and joyful as the guy who just made the unbelievable three-pointer from midcourt to win the state championship. 

"I know, I was just," Josh’s words were cut out by the arrival of Vice President Russell and his staff. 

Everyone settled down immediately. Santos reached out a hand amicably and accepted Russell’s congratulations. Josh watched Donna watching Helen Santos. Helen finished a cell phone call and joined her husband in thanking the Vice President for running a strong competitive race. Within a minute Donna’s cell phone rang. Her face lit up at the call. 

Something changed in Donna’s expression. She looked up and found Josh watching her. She pointed toward the phone and then pointed at him. She made her way to him. 

"It’s my sister, Grace, she wants to talk to you!" Donna grinned and handed him the phone. 

"To me? I haven’t talked to her in ages." Josh took the phone as Donna shrugged her shoulders. 

"Hi Josh, it’s me Grace. I know you don’t have much time, but I thought I’d let you know how proud we are of you." 

"But Russell lost," Josh murmured into the phone, trying not to attract any attention. "Donna’s guy lost!" 

"No, Josh. My little sister’s guy didn’t lose. Her guy won. Her boss lost the bid for the nomination, but her guy won." 

Josh was speechless. 

"Now I know you guys are going to be insanely busy for hopefully the next eight years, but I just wanted you to know we are all proud of you. Now, let me talk to my sister again." 

Josh, bewildered, handed the phone to Donna. He watched her talk with her sister and was surprised when Helen Santos approached him. 

"We did it Josh!" She beamed and reached out for a hug. 

While she had him in her embrace, she whispered in his ear, "Go right now." 

Josh tried pulling out of the hug but she held tight. "Right now there is a car waiting for you near the underground entrance. Go, grab her and get out of here. You have 24 hours. Please, do something all of us will cheer for later." Kissing Josh on the cheek she let him go and with a knowing smile returned to her husband. 

Oh my god. What the hell just happened? Could she? Did she? How? Josh stood rooted in his place, his mind unable to process what just transpired. 

"Josh, you okay?" Donna reached out and touched his shoulder. 

Josh felt like the floor fell out beneath his feet when he finally made eye contact with Donna. 

"We gotta go," he whispered. 

"What?" She looked concerned. 

"Now, right now. We gotta go right now Donna." 

"Go? Go where?" 

"I don’t know. Come on." He grabbed her hand and began pulling her away from the group. 

"Josh!" she hissed, "What are you doing! Don’t you have to stay with the Congressman? We can’t leave! What’s going on right now?" 

"What do you mean you don’t know? Never mind. Donna, we have to go. We have to go right now." His voice had never sounded so determined. 

"Donna?" Will’s voice hollered after them. 

Josh and Donna looked back to see Helen Santos stop Will’s entreaties and motion for them to keep going. 

"Are you okay? Josh, what’s wrong with you?" 

"I’ll explain eventually. It has a lot to do with envelopes." Josh gave her furrowed brow a knowing look and rushed down the cement steps toward the private drive underneath the Staples Center. 

"Mr. Lyman? Ms. Moss?" a deep voice called to them from a waiting Town Car. 

"That’s us!" Donna stopped to catch her breath. "Who are you?" 

"I’m Thomas, ma’am. I’ll be driving you to your destination tonight." 

"Our what? Josh, what the hell is going on?" 

Josh stopped dead in his tracks. 

"You mean you don’t know? You really don’t know?" 

"I know that Russell lost, Santos won, and you’ve lost your mind. That’s it." She worked to catch her breath. 

She really didn’t know? She didn’t send the riddles and set up the crazy phone calls? She was looking at him with a mixture of excitement, fear, and suspicion. 

"Ah, Mr. Lyman, I think it’s time we left," Thomas nodded toward the small group of press gathering at a distance. 

Josh nodded, gave Donna a look, and pushed her toward the waiting car. 

"Am I gonna have to sit on your lap again?" she wondered aloud. 

"In, Donnatella, get in the car." 

Once inside the car, Donna turned on him. "Josh, what’s going on? You have to tell me," she pleaded with him. 

Donna didn’t sound scared. She sounded confused and looked more than a little intrigued. 

"At this point, Donna, our new friend Thomas has a better idea what’s going on than I do." Josh relaxed into the leather and reached for her hand. "All I know is that everything is different from here on out." 

She still had that look on her face like she thought he was nuts, but she didn’t let go of his hand. 

The car rolled up the cement drive and out into the starry Los Angeles night. 

"My God, Josh, what an amazing night. Can you believe it?" Her voice made him smile. 

"How do you feel? Russell lost, I mean, I know how I’d feel." He tightened his grip on her hand. 

She looked down at their hands and sighed. 

"To be honest, Josh, when I agreed to join the Russell campaign, I always assumed you’d be there too," she said. "Once I understood you were going the distance with Santos, I knew I could still do some good where I was. I think it was something I had to do on my own." 

"I understand. Not that I understood why you chose to work for Bingo Bob, but I can tell you that your hard work made my job a lot harder. You know, in a good way." He stumbled over his words and looked to see if she understood him. 

"Yeah," she sighed mockingly. "I worked my tail off, and for what? I spent months and months with boring people. True, I learned a zillion things and my self-esteem has never been better, but gosh, golly, it sure did lack someone to make me laugh." 

"Really?" 

"If you don’t count the inane babble coming forth from the Vice President’s mouth, yeah." 

"Donna!" 

"I’m kidding Josh. Well, mostly I’m kidding. Honestly, Josh, I missed you and it would have been fun to be working on the same campaign together." 

"What’s to say that can’t still happen?" Josh asked quietly. 

She flashed him a smile and turned to look out her window, staring at the city lights as they rolled past. 

"Thomas?" Donna leaned forward toward their driver. 

"Yes, Ms. Moss?" 

"Where are we going? I mean, here we are, and we have no idea what’s going on." Donna kind of smiled as she looked back at Josh. 

"Actually, Donna, that’s not exactly true," Josh mused. 

Donna sat back. 

"What do you mean? Josh?" 

"It was the letters," he began. 

"Letters?" 

"Yeah, a few months ago I got home from a road trip to find four manila envelopes mixed in with my mail." 

"What kind of letters?" 

"Seriously, Donna, you really don’t know?" 

"No, Josh, I really don’t know." 

"You didn’t arrange them?" 

One look at her concerned face and he knew she wasn’t behind the letters. 

"So," he started again, "Like I said, I got home to find these envelopes. All four looked exactly the same- same handwriting, same kind of stamps. The only thing different was the postmark. Each one had a different postmark from a different date. And there were these little numbers printed above the stamps. The oldest envelope had a small number '1' printed on it and the most recent envelope had a small number '4' printed on it." 

"What was in the envelopes?" Donna looked intrigued. 

"Letters. Weird letters." 

"What did they say?" 

"Well, they all had lyrics to a song across the top and," Josh was interrupted by the car. It was stopped. 

"We’re here, Ms. Moss, Mr. Lyman," Thomas’ warm voice interrupted him. 

Josh looked out the window as the valet approached his door. 

"Hey, this is," he started and his door opened from the outside. 

"Welcome to the Mondrian, Mr. Lyman," the valet’s voice greeted him. 

Josh looked back into the car but a valet of her own had already ushered Donna out. 

Donna reached out for Josh’s arm when she neared him. She leaned in close and whispered in his ear, "Josh! Do you know what this place is? This is the Mondrian! This is one of the trendiest hotels in all of L.A. This is the home of the Skybar! The Skybar! Everyone who is anyone comes here. Celebrities, actors, directors, all the power players in Hollywood hang out here. This place is amazing." Donna turned to admire the clean modern design of the lobby. 

"What was the name of the bar Donna?" 

"The Skybar. What are we doing here, Josh? Did you plan all this?" Her excitement was undeniable and she let the ambience of the space wash over her. Part of him wished he had indeed planned all of this. He would remember next time. 

A snippet of a months-old conversation clicked in Josh’s mind. Resting. The sky. Not letting fear bar him from taking action. The Skybar. The Mondrian Hotel. 

"Wow," Josh murmured under his breath. 

A clerk approached them. "Good evening Ms. Moss, Mr. Lyman. The Mondrian is glad to welcome you tonight. We’d like to pass our particular congratulations to Congressman Santos and his win tonight. Very exciting." 

"Yes," Josh nodded. "Thank you." 

"Now, as I understand it, both of you are a bit in the dark as to why you are here." 

"Some," Donna smiled. "We could use a hint." 

The clerk smiled but said nothing. "I’m sure a relaxing drink in the bar would be beneficial. Please, let me show you the way." 

Josh and Donna entered the Skybar. Soft lights and candles mixed with lush greenery and beautiful furnishings. The open-air bar really did feel like it floated in the clouds. It took Josh a minute to notice there were actual people in the area. 

"Oh Josh," Donna sighed. "Look at this. It’s unbelievable." She sounded hypnotized. 

"Want to get a drink?" he offered. 

She nodded and tucked her arm inside his. Donna’s grip tightened the closer they got to the clusters of people near the bar. Her feet stopped moving and she leaned in to whisper in his ear. 

"Josh! Look! Oh my God, could it be?" 

"What? Donna? What’s wrong with you?" Josh tried nudging her forward. She would not move. 

"It’s them!" 

"Who?" 

"Chris Carter, Gillian Anderson and David Duchovny," Donna’s breathless voice tickled his ear. 

"So?" 

"So!? All three of them are over there, together! Do you know what that means?" 

"They wanted a drink?" he ventured. 

"Josh! It means that there’s going to be another X-Files film! This is so awesome!" To look at Donna at that exact moment, one would never know the man she worked to get the Democratic nomination lost less than two hours earlier. 

"How do you know?" Josh gave up getting her to move forward. 

"I don’t, but this is good progress. Why else would those three get together?" Donna sounded like a conspiracy theorist in her own right. 

"Do you want to join them? Is this going to be like that time with David Hasslehoff?" Josh joked. 

Donna blanched. "What! No. No. No." Donna started backpedaling. "Let’s just get our drink and, uh, not go talk to them." Her feet started moving again, this time in the direction opposite those over whom she’d just spent time gushing. 

The bartender greeted them with a smile. "Congratulations sir, and you too ma’am. Sounds like it was an exciting night. Here, enjoy with our compliments." 

"Uh, thanks." Josh took the two glasses of champagne the bartender set before him and passed one to Donna. 

Of all the places to relax, Josh was surprised when Donna picked out a rather secluded spot. She smiled at him and settled down into the soft deck chair. The light blue of her suit sort of glowed in the soft light. 

"You don’t want to be star gazing?" Josh chided her. 

"No," she took a sip of her champagne and shivered, "I don’t." 

"You cold?" 

"Maybe a little." 

"Here." He handed her his suit coat. 

She settled in comfortably and turned her gaze on him. "Tell me about the letters Josh, because if they led us here, I can’t wait to see what’s next." 

Looking at her, watching him softly from the depths of his own coat, he relaxed and let a smile wash over his face. 

"What?" Her smile mirrored his. 

"I think Thomas is in on the letters, at least a little." 

"How?" 

"He brought us here. Although he may have just been hired, you know, without any prior knowledge." 

"You mean you didn’t set this up Josh?" 

"No, but I wish I did." he shook his head. "This was part of the letters." 

"How?" 

"The third letter told me I would find a place to rest, with you, that we would meet in the 'sky' and that I shouldn’t let my fears 'bar' me from reaching out to you." 

Wonder, amazement, confusion danced across Donna’s face. 

"Start at the first letter Josh, this is so, I don’t know, but I want to figure it out." She was definitely in detective mode. 

"Okay, first letter was all about the Mother Road and getting out of the Dust Bowl of my personal life. Basically it was about connecting with you, here, in California," he started. 

"Sounds like a Great Depression-Route 66 reference. Well, it worked. We were both here, in California. But so what? We knew we’d be here, at the Convention." 

"Honestly, Donna, there were days I didn’t know if we’d even make it to the Convention, much less the next campaign stop. If we’d lost, I might not have been here, in California." 

"But you would have come right? You would have come, because of the letters?" 

"I would have come because of you." He took another sip of champagne. 

"Josh...who did this? Who went to this kind of trouble, just to get us..." her voice softened. 

“"’m not sure, Donna. Time was a big concept in the letters though. They kept pushing me to do something because time was passing. They made it sound like if I didn’t act soon you’d be gone from my life," he sighed. 

"But Josh, everyone who really knows us, who sees us everyday, would not think to set us up with anyone but each other. Do you think whoever pulled this together lives in Washington?" 

"I don’t know." 

"Did you get any names?" 

"Sort of. The letters had clues that led me to the Internet. Keyword searches led me to specific businesses in the cities where the letters originated. When I called each of the businesses, a woman, who apparently knew I would call, gave me more cryptic clues and usually hung up on me before I could ask any questions." 

"That is weird. And all the letters were pushing you to, you know, act on us?" 

"Yes." 

"Who? I mean, you said those letters were from all around the country. Who could organize something like this?" Donna’s voice was full of questions but he could see how tired she was. He could feel how tired he was. 

"Donna, before we left, Helen Santos said something to me about us having 24 hours. Do you want to meet for breakfast and keep working on the clues?" 

Donna had a strange look on her face. If he were a betting man, he’d bet she’d be content to sleep out here, in the Skybar, in his coat, all night long. 

"I bet Thomas is still outside. Do you want me to bring you to your hotel?" 

She reached out and took his hand in hers. 

"My hotel?" he ventured. 

"Let’s go, Josh." She stood and wrapped his coat tighter around her shoulders. 

They made their way back toward the lobby when the same clerk who met them intercepted them again. 

"Excuse me, Ms. Moss? Mr. Lyman?" 

"Yes?" Josh turned to the clerk. 

"You were leaving?" The man sounded confused. 

"Uh, yes." Josh scratched his head and looked at Donna. 

The clerk smiled as if he knew a whole lot more than he was telling. 

"It’s been a long day, for both of you, I’d imagine. If I could have you follow me." The clerk turned and started walking away toward the elevators. 

"Should we follow him, Josh?" 

Deep in Josh’s mind little things were falling into place. With a blush in his cheeks, he ushered Donna forward to the waiting elevator. 

A short ride and a long walk down a hallway later, the clerk stopped them in front of a door. 

He handed Josh a key, smiled, and silently left the two of them standing in the hallway. Alone. 

"Josh?" 

"Donna?" 

"What’s going on?" 

"Looks like we’re at our room." 

"Do you want me to open the door or have you finally learned how to use one of those keys?" Her voice teased. 

He smirked at her and opened the door on the first try. 

"After you." He ushered her past him into the room. 

A soft thud hit his ears as he closed the door behind him. 

"Donna?" 

Her back was pressed up against the wall. The look on her face was priceless. 

"Josh," she whispered, "Look." 

The room was filled with softly lit candles. 

"Oh my God," his voice matched hers for wonder and awe. 

Candles on the table. Candles on the nightstand. Candles on the floor. Candles on the patio outside their room. 

Donna wandered further into the room, exploring this strange beautiful surprise. 

"Was this part of the, of the letters?" Her voice was nervous, almost as if she were afraid it was all a dream. 

"Actually...yes." His smile extended across the room and brought one to her face. "Donna, I, uh, I mean, I know this is sudden, but I think whoever did this was trying to tell us something." 

"You think?" Her grin eased the moment. "I’d say someone had very specific ideas about what they wanted us to do." 

She crossed the distance between them. "Josh, this, right now this feels so..." she searched for the words. 

"Yeah," was all he could say. He was staring at her; the diamonds in her ears sparkled and danced like the candlelight surrounding them. 

"So everything led us here?" She reached out hesitantly to put her hands on the soft fabric of his shirt. 

"Seems so," was the best he could do. Donna’s soft hands were warm on his chest. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" He heard the nervousness in her voice. 

"Um, not right now, Donna. I mean, I do, there’s a lot to say, but, uh, right now? Talking? Not so much." 

He leaned in to her and caught her broad smile from the corner of his eye. Donna’s grin was the last thing he saw before his lips finally introduced themselves to hers. 

If the floor didn’t fall from beneath his feet back at the Staples Center, he was sure it would at any moment. She tasted like champagne. She felt soft and strong underneath his hands and she was doing this delicious thing with her tongue. He wondered how anyone lived life before kissing Donnatella Moss. 

Breathless, she leaned back, locking her eyes with his. "Hi," she grinned. It seemed as though she couldn’t stop smiling. 

"You know, Donna, it really wouldn’t have taken me four mysterious letters and a whole load of intrigue to make my way to you," he said as he cradled her neck with his hands, pulling her back into their embrace. 

"But Josh...wow, can you kiss," she murmured. "Do you think we would be here tonight if not for those letters?" She asked as she traced patterns on his chest with her fingers. 

"Absolutely Donna. I would have..." his voice got lost somewhere around the time he felt her unbuttoning his dress shirt. 

"Josh, it’s been you for a long time. You know that right?" Donna pulled back to look in his eyes. 

He nodded and took her face in his hands. He nodded, he didn't have the words. 

Breathing deeply she melted into his arms and the night was lost to their dreams of the last eight years. 

Morning light pried at Josh’s eyes. He rolled away from the window to find the space where Donna should be empty. Blinking, he opened his eyes to find her watching him from the chair. She was wearing a big fluffy white robe and her diamond earrings. She was eating a croissant and drinking coffee. 

"Good morning," his voice was gravelly with sleep. 

"Hi." She kept watching him. "Want some coffee?" 

"What?!" 

She laughed. "Room service brought it. I just poured two cups, you know, by accident." She winked. 

He considered a quick comeback but opted instead to get closer to her. He threw off the covers and watched Donna’s eyes as he neared her. She was holding her breath and the croissant was sort of trapped in the air, waiting for her to take another bite. 

Taking the mug in one hand he leaned down and kissed her thoroughly. "I like seeing you when I wake up," he admitted before taking a bite of the croissant she held aloft. 

He went back to the bed and crawled in. 

"Want to have that talk now?" Josh asked. 

"You want to?" She asked back. 

"Kind of." 

"What would you rather do?" She smirked, revealing a little more of what was under the bathrobe as she left the chair. "What would be your perfect morning Joshua?" she asked as she sat on the edge of the bed. 

"Look at you, drink my coffee...and maybe do a little victory dance." He smirked, "And in that order." 

Donna edged across the bed until she was nestled up next to Josh. He threw his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in for a hug. 

She didn’t look like she just woke up. 

"How long have you been awake?" 

"Well," she smiled, "there was a knock on the door a few hours ago, it’s 10:30am by the way, and a person came and dropped off a bag of stuff." 

"What kind of stuff?" He took a sip of his coffee. 

"Well, swimsuits, shorts, t-shirts, hats, and all the stuff we’d need to go out today." She took a bite of her croissant. "You were out cold...thank you very much," she grinned like the Cheshire Cat, "So I went down to the swimming pool. God, Josh, this place is so beautiful. I really needed to relax and the peace and quiet I found there was wonderful." She took another bite. 

"I missed you in a swimsuit?" He whined. 

She nodded. 

"So, have you figured out how we got here?" She asked around a sip of his coffee. 

"Hey, where’s your coffee?" he whined. 

She pointed to the table. "Way, way over there. I just couldn’t go all the way over there and get it, so I took a tiny sip of yours." 

"Fine," he tried to sound put out. 

"So, He-Who-Has-Just-Won-the-Democratic-Nomination-for-President-Despite-Amazing-Odds, have you figured out how we got here?" Donnatella Moss was in a very good mood. 

"In bed?" 

She tried swatting at him but stopped when it looked like she might drop part of her breakfast, she took a big bite instead. 

"Donna, if you are going to refer to me in the third person, I prefer you refer to me as He-Who-Has-Just-Had-Mind-Blowing Sex-With-The-Love-of-His-Life." 

Donna started blinking furiously and did her best to finish her bite without choking. 

"Josh," she started. It looked as if she might actually cry. 

"Oh, you mean how did we end up in this fantastic hotel room that we didn’t book," he grinned as he took the last of her croissant. 

"MmmHmm," she agreed as she leaned in to kiss his forehead. 

"It goes back to the letters, I’d assume." 

"Yes! Tell me more. We’ve been interrupted on that subject too often." She snuggled back down into his warmth. "Now, let’s go through this logically. Where was the first letter from?" 

"California. Santa Monica to be exact," he said. 

"Is that why you asked me if I knew anyone in Santa Monica?" 

"Yep," he drank some coffee. 

"Did you think I was behind them?" She sounded amazed. "You thought I had time to set all that up?" 

"Well, you are the best time management person I know, Donna. If anyone could have done it, it was you." 

"Wow. Okay, that first letter said you had to come to me in California, to put an end to your tragic Dust Bowl-esque personal life." She was grinning. 

"Yes. I called the number from the link and some woman named Monica told me that I was waiting for a sign but that I’d already gotten all the signs I would need, and that I should act on my feelings for you." 

"Monica? In Santa Monica?" she asked. 

"Uh huh." 

"What was the name of the place you called Josh?" She looked suspicious. 

"Uh, let me think, it was the Route 66 Historical Society." 

Donna’s jaw dropped. "Really? Are you sure?" 

"Yes..." Josh wondered what was swirling around in Donna’s brain. 

"Okay," she steeled herself, "What was the second letter?" 

"Uh, that was all about lights and lovers finding their way to each other in the darkness by candlelight. Which, hey, there were candles all over the place in here last night. That might say something," he nodded his head, feeling as though their discussion was going well. 

"Who did you talk to on that letter?" 

"Uh, that was the Gateway Arch Candle Company, a woman named Nadine, if I remember correctly." 

Donna sat up straighter. She was doing some serious thinking. 

"Third letter, Josh, tell me." 

"Uh," he could see she was getting something pulled together in her mind. She was tapping her fingers on his leg methodically. "Oh yeah, that was a crazy woman in Minneapolis. She owned some sort of beauty parlor. St. Terese’s Home for," he was cut off. 

"Wayward Goddesses," Donna smiled the kind of smile she saved for particularly sneaky Republicans. 

"What!? Donna, you know of that place?" Josh couldn’t contain the amazement he felt. 

"In a way. Okay, go on to the fourth letter. What was it and with whom did you speak?" She was all business now, no use trying to get her to explain anything yet. 

"Uh, that was Louisville, Kentucky. The letter was full of baseball metaphors. Like how when you left your job with me it was a curveball and that I was hovering outside the batter’s box instead of getting back in the game, that kind of thing." He rambled on as he watched her nod her head. She knew. She must know. 

"What did the woman on the phone say to you?" 

"She owned a sporting good store or something and she told me to get off my ass and sweep you off your feet. She said something about the East meeting the West and that you and I would sit in the sun and enjoy it. Oh, and she insulted my 'wishy washy politician’s answer' before hanging up on me." Josh watched Donna intently. 

She was silent for quite awhile. 

"Donna?" He reached out and touched the side of her face. 

"When you called me that day, Josh, why did you ask me about French chick flicks?" 

This was odd. He wasn’t expecting her to remember that part of their conversation. 

"Uh, after I got all those letters I called my mother to see if she could help. All she said was that the whole thing sounded like that movie 'Amelie' and that she thought it was cute. Oh, she also told me the poems at the top of each letter were actually a song." Josh ticked off all the information he had. 

"Josh, think about this now, did any of the women give you their last names?" 

"Uh, come to think of it, no. They didn’t. Donna, you’re spooking me a bit here. What do you know?" 

"Me? I know lots of things Josh." It looked as if she was waging an internal battle whether to be mad, embarrassed, or eternally grateful. 

"Come on Donna," he started. 

"Monica Bedford runs the Route 66 Historical Society. Nadine Dawson owns and runs the Gateway Arch Candle Company. Terese Wallaker owns and operates St. Terese’s Home for Wayward Goddesses. Arlene Borden founded Take A Swing sporting goods." Donna sighed and tried to suppress a smile. She failed miserably. 

"How? Donna, how did you know those names?" 

"Josh, give me your cell phone," Donna pointed toward his cell on the nightstand. 

He handed it to her. She dialed a number, waggled her eyebrows at him, and waited for the line to pick up. 

"Hi Ella Grace, it’s your Aunt Donna. Put your mom on the phone." 

Donna pushed a button so the speakerphone was activated and set the phone on Josh’s lap. 

"Donna?" Josh whispered. 

She put her finger to her lips, motioning for him to be quiet. 

"Hello?" 

"Hi Grace. How’s my big sister this morning?" Donna smiled aloud. 

"Donna! Hi honey! I didn’t think I’d hear from you so soon!" Grace sounded a little more than surprised. 

"Oh I’m good, Gracie, I’m really really good." 

"Oh honey, I’m glad," her sister cooed into the phone. 

"Grace?" 

"Yes?" her sister’s voice sounded strange. 

"Monica Bedford, Nadine Dawson, Terese Wallaker, and Arlene Borden." Donna stated each name slowly. 

"What are you talking about Donna?" 

"Grace. Knock it off," Donna tried not to laugh. Josh rubbed her arm to keep her from losing it all together. 

"What honey? Are you okay?" Grace wondered. 

"Grace!" Donna exclaimed, "Monica Bedford was your college roommate. Nadine Dawson is one of your best friends from high school. Terese Wallaker is your old hairdresser, before, you know, she moved to Minneapolis. And, Arlene Borden is our aunt." 

"I know that dear, what are you getting at?" Grace was losing it by the second. 

"How could you!" Donna cried. 

"What?! Come on Donna! How often did I hear about how great Josh was, how handsome and inspiring. How long was I going to see the two of your on C-SPAN or whatever and try to tell my friends that 'No, they aren’t together!' Come on Donna! You’ve loved him forever and mom told us he’s insanely in love with you. She saw him in Germany!" 

"I’m handsome and inspiring?" Josh finally entered the conversation with a smirk. 

"Oh, don’t you get started!" Donna blushed. 

"Hi Josh, didya get my letters?" Grace purred into the phone. 

"You are a crazy woman, you know that right?" Josh answered. 

"There’s not much to do in Wisconsin, Josh, I couldn’t just let this year go by without doing my part." 

"So how did you get them sent from different places if you wrote all the letters? They were postmarked from four different states." Josh asked. 

"Donna? Do you have a guess?" Her sister teased. "Who would have the opportunity to send letters for me from all around the country?" 

Donna was silent. She chewed on her lip. He could tell she knew the answer but wanted to make her sister wait. 

"Gee, Gracie, it wasn’t Naomi was it?" Donna’s voice was getting a little snarky. 

"Actually, it was! She’s such a sweetheart, don’t you think?" Grace was having so much fun, Josh could tell in her voice. 

"Who’s Naomi?" Josh asked. 

"Naomi is my best friend in the whole wide world, Josh. She’s a flight attendant." Grace exclaimed. 

"So she dropped off all the letters when she landed at the airport." 

"Yep!" Grace sounded like she was the Queen of All Things Hilarious. 

"Oh Gracie, you didn’t. What if it hadn’t worked? What if they hadn’t won?" Donna’s voice got serious. 

"Who? What? Won what?" Josh reacted to Donna’s intensity. 

"Josh," Donna said seriously, "Ask my sister what Naomi’s last name is." 

"What’s Naomi’s last name Grace?" Josh looked worriedly at Donna. 

"Her married name or her maiden name?" 

"Uh, both?" 

"Well," Grace took a deep breath. She apparently knew exactly where this was going. "Naomi and I met in college. She was born Naomi Miller. She married a very nice man and now her name is Naomi Anderson. Now, here’s where it gets kinda odd," Grace paused. 

"Here it gets odd?" Josh queried. 

"Tell him Grace!" Donna pleaded. 

"Oh fine, you have no patience Donnatella. Josh, listen carefully. My best friend, Naomi, is a Houston native. Her maiden name is Naomi Miller. Naomi has a younger sister. Does that mean anything to you?" 

Josh looked from the phone to Donna and back to the phone. 

"Uh," Josh wasn’t sure if it could be true. "Are you kidding me?" 

"No!" Grace shrieked into the phone. "Naomi Miller’s sister’s name is Helen and," Grace started. 

"Helen Miller married a man named Matthew Santos who just won the nomination for President of the United States," Josh sighed and leaned back into the headboard. 

"Oh my God." Donna hung her head in a combination of embarrassment and shame. "Josh, I’m so sorry. My insane sister got the future First Lady in on her freakishly complicated plan to get you to, well to get us to, you know." Donna waved her hands in the air. 

"Oh come off it little sister! She was so glad to help. She told Naomi all about Josh and how high strung he was. She told him that she thought he needed a woman and Naomi then told her all about Donna and all the years the two of you wasted pretending not to love the other!" Grace chatted on like this was her soap opera. 

"Grace! We are serious people with serious careers! You can’t just meddle in our lives! We had a plan! We had our own time schedule!" Donna hollered. 

Josh covered up the phone. "We had a plan?" He asked her with a hint of surprise in his tone. 

"She doesn’t need to know that we didn’t!" Donna turned her energies on him. "I mean, yes, Josh, there was no specific plan, per se. But hey! I knew I loved you. I knew you loved me." Donna huffed. 

Josh lifted his finger off the phone. Grace was still chatting away, apparently she hadn’t noticed no one was listening to her. 

"Grace!" he tried to get her attention. "Grace! Listen! First off, you are a crazy woman. Second, thank you for being crazy. Third, I’ve got to go. I’ve got your sister in bed and I think we’ve had more than enough talking for one morning." 

With that, Josh hung up on Grace and tossed his phone to the floor. He turned back to Donna’s shocked face and grinned. 

"You feel like talking Donna?" He asked innocently. 

She narrowed her eyes and licked her lips. If she was trying to project a bit of a pout, it wasn’t working. Her eyes sparkled and her breathing was shallow and fast. He could tell she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. 

"Come here, you." He grabbed the edges of her bathrobe and she lunged to meet him. 

How did he wake up every morning without her? He’d have to ask her, later, much later. 

Their passionate kisses were interrupted by a knock at the door. 

"Go away!" Donna hollered toward the door before turning her attention back to him. 

He thought he heard an envelope being pushed under the door, but he wasn’t sure. At that point, he didn’t care. Donnatella Moss was wrapped around his body, warm and strong and she was kissing the hell out of him. 

"Donna?" Josh gasped. 

"Yes?" she purred. 

"I gotta say I’m impressed." 

"With what?" 

"Us!" 

"Why?" 

"We’re really good at this," he smiled as he ran his hands up the soft skin of her back. 

"Josh," she grinned. 

"No, really. We are excellent at this." 

"Josh, shut up and go back to being excellent," Donna’s mouth captured his again, ending all conversation. 

Hours later, Josh woke to the sound of knocking at their door. He looked up and found Donna asleep. Her upper body was draped across half his chest and her legs were woven with his. Her hair was a mess and she snored lightly with the rhythm of her own breathing. 

Josh smiled, knowing full well he had that Cheshire Cat smile Donna was wearing earlier. 

The knocking at the door continued. He slid out carefully from underneath Donna’s body and gently pulled the covers up over her sleeping form. 

He pulled on a robe and went to answer the door. 

"Yes?" 

"Good afternoon, Mr. Lyman. I was wondering if you’d gotten the envelope yet?" The man had on a hotel ID badge. 

Josh looked down. He was standing on an envelope. 

"Uh, is this it?" 

"I think so sir. I apologize for interrupting, but I was instructed to make sure you opened that envelope before 1pm. I see that you have it. Thank you sir, I’ll be going." 

The man left and Josh went back into the room. He opened the envelope and stared. A pair of tickets and a short note fell from the envelope. 

The note read: 

> "We love you both so much. Know that we are proud of how hard the both of you have worked. We just couldn’t imagine the two of your going through even one more day of your lives without having all the love of the other. Forgive us if we embarrassed you a little, we thought it was worth the risk. 
> 
> Sincerely, Grace Stevenson  
>  Naomi Anderson (Miller)  
>  Helen Santos (Miller)  
>  Monica Bedford  
>  Nadine Dawson  
>  Terese Wallaker  
>  Arlene Borden"  
> 

Josh looked down at the tickets. They were for today’s Mets-Dodgers game. East meets West. The last clue finally fell into place. Josh grinned and looked at the sleeping form of the woman he loved. 

"Donna!" he bellowed. "Wake up! We’re going to a baseball game!" 

FIN 

Author's Notes:  
1\. The character of Donna's sister, Grace, showed up in an earlier story I wrote, "Ella Grace." The characters are the same but the story is not. If you go and read it, it will not make sense, story-wise with this one.  
2\. I've stayed at the Mondrian. It really is all that and a bag of chips.  
3\. The X-Files reference was a shout out to my trip to LA wherein I did meet David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson (just not at the Skybar.)  



End file.
